Of Neiman Marcus, Sweatshops, and Michael Moore
by Ruse Amour
Summary: When shopping at Neiman Marcus, who should Sarah see but a certain irresistible, white blond Goblin King? Rated T for some risqué scenes. One shot.


**Title: Neiman Marcus, Goblin Sweatshops, and Michael Moore**

**Synopsis**: When shopping at Neiman Marcus, who should Sarah see but a certain irresistible, white blond Goblin King? Rated T for some risqué scenes.

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**Preview notes**: Story takes place in 2007.

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Sarah Williams tried on the magenta dress, her eyes scrutinizing every detail. She wanted to make sure there were no bulges, no unnecessary creases, and definitely no lumps in unseemly places.

The sales associate at Neiman Marcus, whose eyes were blatantly glowing at the prospect of collecting a hefty commission upon the sale of the dress, gave her a resonating smile. "You can't go wrong with Gucci," she told her, "especially now that Frida Giannini has replaced Tom Ford, the collection has become even more beautiful."

Sarah frowned, she'd given glowing reviews for all the five dresses she'd tried on. Even the ridiculous, floaty, and completely bland Chloe dress. It was painfully evident that she didn't give a damn about Frida Giannini and only wanted her commission.

"Yes, thank you," Sarah strained to read the associate's name tag, "Tamara. I'd like some time alone with to think."

Tamara got the cue. "Of course, Ms. Williams," she said, retreating out of the fitting room, "I'll go to the accessories department and find some matching shoes. What is your size?"

"Eight."

_Finally_, Sarah thought when the girl left. She looked at her reflection in the three way mirror. The dress had a fairly conservative neckline in the front, showing only a bit of cleavage, and a wide banded sleeve on her shoulders. The back however, dipped low, dangerously hovering on the line between sexy and obscene.

_Well_, she mused, James _had told her to make an impression_. It would be impudent to disappoint him.

_Liar_, her demonic side smirked. _You want him angry enough to cancel, or even post phone your wedding._

_Shut up,_ her angelic side commanded her demonic side. _Wedding good,_ she repeated, _wedding very good. You're thirty-five years old, you have an excellent job, the only thing missing is a husband. _She sighed, angry with herself. She was a young, _yes young_, successful woman earning a six figure income as an advertisement executive. Still, even after all her success, societal pressure had forced her into accepting James' proposal. She had received her undergraduate degree, gone on to get an MBA, and then a successful job. The only thing missing was a marriage to a successful man. _They_ would go on to have children with IQs above the average, who would become successful young professionals _just like their parents_.

_You don't really believe that bullshit do you? _Her demonic voice was giving her trouble today. James had called unexpectedly at her job and asked that she accompany him to an important dinner tonight. He'd said an important CEO of 'an important' company, J. R., was going to be there. First, she'd laughed that someone actually called himself J. R., remembering the ridiculous character from Karen's favourite re-run show. Then, like an idiot, she had run out of her office and into Neiman Marcus, looking for an overpriced dress with equally overpriced shoes and clutch to match.

She slipped out of the Gucci dress and back into her Seven for all Mankind jeans, smiling as jeans fit perfectly against her body. _Whoever was involved in making these jeans was a genius_! No other denim brand in the world, not even Rock and Republic, fit better than her Sevens. She put on her black cardigan and slipped on her Lavin leopard print ballet flats, the magenta dress in one hand and an oak coloured Stella McCartney satchel in another.

As she made her way into the accessories department, she skimmed the men's suit department, suddenly angry. It sure as hell was much easier being a man when it came to fashion. Most of their clothes were pretty much alike. It was a conspiracy dammit! She was reflecting over her angry feelings towards the conspiracy when a sudden flash of white blond hair caught her eye. _It couldn't be…could it?_

Sarah Williams stood on the floor of Neiman Marcus, her mouth wide open. Her eyes were directed at a man with tousled blond hair and the strangest pair of eyes in the world. Jareth. _The_ Jareth. The Goblin King, _dress me up in pants tight enough to show my male anatomy Jareth_, was trying on a Giorgio Armani suit. In broad day light. In Neiman Marcus.

Her brain going into automaton mode, Sarah Williams strode toward the unsuspecting man and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" his cool voice asked, his accent the same as she remembered from years ago.

"You," she hissed, "Jareth."

He twisted his lips in a smirk. "Me, Jareth," he replied, before turning back to the mirror, examining the dark black suit on his body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she questioned, angry when he took his time in answering her back.

Brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulder, Jareth looked at her. "I am buying this suit, in case you did not notice."

She seethed. "I did notice," she retorted, a fake sugary sweetness in her voice. "I meant why you are here, in Neiman Marcus of all places, buying a suit?"

"You need to word your questions properly, my dear," came his wry response. "I need a suit for a gala dinner my company is hosting tonight."

Sarah felt her stomach grow cold. _Gala dinner, tonight_. "You are J. R.?" she asked, incredulous at the thought of the Goblin King being a CEO.

Jareth grinned wickedly. "J. R., CEO of Goblins Inc. Publishing."

"You're _fucking_ insane."

He laughed, sinfully delightful mirth spilling from his throat. "That's quite an insult. How _shall_ I recover from your wounding words?"

"You could jump into a lake with rocks tied around your feet," she suggested, wickedness not much different than his, glowing in her eyes.

"As interesting as this conversation has been, I have to go to the fitting room to try on another suit," Jareth said, his voice regally bored. He turned and left her standing there, without a second word.

Sarah Williams was a rational adult. She wouldn't, for example, kick her boss at work when he annoyed her. But something about Jareth diminished the rational adult part of herself. She kicked the full length mirror in front of her before following Jareth into the men's fitting rooms. "Jareth," she whispered, "where are you?"

"My, my, you've grown into morally devious woman Sarah. I would have thought better of you than to barge into an area full of sparsely dressed men."

"There's no one here but you," she answered, an embarrassed blush creeping into her face. "Get out here I need to talk to you," she commanded.

He opened the door to his stall, standing only in a pair of pants. "What do you wish to say?" he asked with quiet intensity.

Sarah's blush darkened. When dealing with Jareth, she had forgotten how literally he took her words. "Would you care to put on a shirt?" she asked, her gaze directed at the floor.

"I apologize," he said, a smile reflected in his voice. "I did not realise I distracted you."

Sarah mentally kicked herself. "What does your company do?" she demanded.

Jareth buttoned up a black shirt as he answered, "We publish children's books."

Heart pounding in her chest, Sarah's eyes widened. "What kind of books?"

A cold sneer graced his lips. "Books about goblins."

She inhaled a sharp breath. "Why?"

He stalked toward the woman, his heated gaze steady on her face. "Why do you think, Sarah dearest?"

_No_. "You want to trick children into wishing other children away."

"You always were such a bright child," he said, emphasising the last word.

Sarah sputtered with rage. "First, I am not a child, I am thirty-five years old." She glared at him through her dark lashes. "Second, where do you publish your books?"

"The Underground. I have lots of goblins to take care of those matters."

"What?"

"Goblins, Sarah. You know, little green creatures that you encountered some years ago." He paused to give her a reproachful glance, "and here I thought you were bright."

She hissed. "Don't you dare! So what do you do with the children who are wished away anyway?"

"I turn them into goblins so I can garner a larger workforce for my publishing company, of course," he answered matter-of-factly, as if she had asked an obvious question.

This information was too much for Sarah, it pushed her over the edge of anger. "You bastard," she screeched. "This is worse than child labour, it's…it's-"

"Goblin labour?" the Goblin King interjected helpfully.

"Shut up!" she yelled. "What you're doing is evil. I'm going to—I'm going to-" she racked her brain and sought what she was trying to relate to him. "I'm going to call Michael Moore. He'd have a field day with this information."

The Goblin King gave a nonchalant "Oh?" to her threat.

"Damn right, I will," she spoke, her face bright red now. "How can you do that with little children?"

He shrugged, not a concern in the world. "It's what I've been doing for an eternity, Sarah."

"I'm going to expose you at the gala tonight," she threatened.

He waved his hand dismissively. "I would love to see you babble about an imaginary character in front of your colleagues and fiancé," he derided.

_Fiancé_…she'd forgotten about him. "Don't bring James into this."

He raised a nonchalant brow. "Have I touched a nerve?"

"Shut up." She did her best to give him her 'death glare.'

His hand smoothed a lock of her dark hair, placing it behind her ear. Slowly lowering his head to her ear, he whispered, "is there anything else you wish to say to me?" His fingers traced her collar bone, a victorious smile on his lips when he heard her sigh.

_This could not be happening to her. _One minute she was standing, glaring at the Goblin King, and the next minute, he was seducing her. Seducing her _successfully_ at that. "Nothing else," she responded, her voice almost a whisper.

"Are you sure?" he asked, placing tormenting little kisses on her neck, his fingers holding her hipbones gently.

Sarah swallowed. She would have slapped his hands away from her body if hers were free. She _couldn't_ let her Stella McCartney satchel or her Gucci dress fall onto the floor, could she? _Of course not_. She was helpless…_that was it_, helpless! So what else could she do but moan when his thumbs stroked her hips circularly and his lips hovered dangerously over the neckline of her cardigan.

"I believe," Jareth began, one finger slightly grazing a taut nipple through the soft cashmere material of her cardigan, "you want to say many things to me." He unbuttoned her cardigan, kissing the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts, pleased when she purred.

Sarah's mind was playing a tug of war. Her angelic side begged her to drop her belongings and push the blond bastard right into the wall. Her demonic side, however, told her to move closer to the blond beast, and entwine her legs with his. Having had enough of her mind's indecision, her body decided to follow its own wish. She placed one denim clad leg between his, plastering her lower body against his.

The Goblin King smiled hungrily, things, it seemed, were working out to his advantage today. He rubbed his hips against hers, ever so slightly, as he bit the luscious flesh of her breast. He was pleased when she emitted a deep moan from her throat, her head thrown back and her lips widely parted. Taking his offered chance, Jareth crushed her lips with his own.

Sarah's angelic side was pissed. It all but shouted, '_human children turned into goblins in sweatshops_' at her demonic side, forcing it to back off. Closing her lips shut, Sarah cleared her throat several times, trying to get him to back off. It didn't work. She then resorted to coughing in his face until he stepped an arms length away from her. _The Goblin King afraid of germies, who knew? _

"I'm going to stop you," Sarah told him, her stony gaze accompanying her icy voice.

An amused Goblin King laughed derisively at her threat. "I believe you were on your way to look at buying that," he said, staring pointedly at the Gucci dress in her hand. "I apologize for distracting you."

Without a word, Sarah clutched her dress (and satchel) and fled the men's fitting room.

Alone, the Goblin King chuckled deeply as he recalled the fire in her eyes. He couldn't wait till the gala tonight.

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"That's him," James pointed out to Sarah, indicating Jareth across the hotel convention room. "That's J. R."

Sarah mentally rolled her eyes. Ever since they had arrived to the gala, it was J. R. _this_ and J. R. _that_. She could have sworn that James was under a spell as he seemed so obsessed with J. R. _That was it_! Sarah fumed until she felt steam come out of her ears.

Jareth smirked when he saw her make her way across the room, her bright eyes shining with murder. "You have sought me out again," he told her, his deep voice rolling from the base of his throat.

Her hands free this time around, she grabbed his wrist. "We need to talk."

"Are you going to drag me outside?" his voice held an edge of mirth, as if daring her to do it.

"Jareth," she whispered angrily, "you better talk to me, in private."

"If you insist."

In a flash, the hotel convention room disappeared, and Sarah found herself in strangely familiar surroundings. She was in a room full of mirrors and stairs,

"My, how wonderfully you've grown up," Jareth said, his voice voracious as he looked at the woman before him. "Following men into changing rooms…_really_ Sarah. You and I could be very _close_ friends this time around."

"Close should not be uttered in the same sentence as you and I, Goblin King," came her formal reply.

He grinned, a flash of his pointy, predatory teeth. "Tell me, my sweet girl, how can you stand the simpleton you call your fiancé?"

"James is not a simpleton, he's an investment banker who earns half a million dollars each year," Sarah voiced, suddenly defensive.

"Is that why you're marrying him?" he framed, his voice carefully blank.

"No," she answered immediately. "I'm at a time where I need to settle down in life," she told him. "He asked me and I said yes."

"I'm very disappointed in you Sarah. I did not think you'd turn out this…_boring_."

Her eyes blazed with a fiery passion. "You have no right to judge me," she hissed angrily, "you…you…you slave labour using sweatshop owner!"

"I lied about that. I needed you to seek me out for a private audience."

She stuttered. "What?"

"There is no Goblins Inc Publishing," he replied, delighted at her stuttering.

"You-"

"Liar?" he finished for her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. He turned serious, looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out her thoughts. "Do not throw your passion away for this…pitiful halfwit."

Sarah stared at him until she thought her eyes would fall out of their sockets_. Had she heard correctly?_ The Goblin King, who had been absent in her life for the last twenty years, had orchestrated an extensive plan because he was _jealous_ of her fiancé? She suppressed an urge to giggle. "Why are you interested in my affairs?" she asked, her voice quietly imploring.

He turned away in a childish impulse. "You are one of the few who has bested my Labyrinth."

She grinned from ear to ear, pleased at his reluctance to admit the truth. "What does that have to do with my marriage?"

"I do not want you to lose yourself, everything you are." He seemed to be looking at anything but her.

"Oh," she said, taking on the role of the predator for once. "If that is all, I do not see how it is any of your business, what I do with my life."

He looked at her sharply, an overwhelming intensity present in his eyes. "That is not all. I…care about you. I want you to stay here with _me_."

The angel in Sarah Williams' mind shut up for once. "Persuade me," she challenged him, her voice husky.

A twisted smile broke out on Jareth's lips, his wolfish teeth gleaming in the light. "If you insist."

Fin.

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Liked it? Review please.

**Author's Notes**: Most Neiman Marcus stores are huge and the men's suit section would not be on the same floor as the women's dresses section. The store has been moulded to fit the story.


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